Experimental & Hybrids

Beads of peach Snapple glisten on Allen’s shaggy beard, dribble onto the front of his Capitals jersey. “See, this is why you can’t live right,” he says. He’s eyeing me from the edge of our desk, over the top of …

The woman possesses some keys she wishes no one to see. She’s hung them on a ring of stirrup bone inside her left ear. They ring so beautifully at the sound of windchimes. The woman has a box the man …

          Since our French Bulldog, Jean-Paul, passed away, I attend Pet-Loss Support meetings. My husband refuses to join me—that’s alright. Some of them are entertaining, so I don’t mind going alone. Last meeting, a man handed me a picture of his …

The animals from outside making themselves clear in their various songs and the people too outside in morning awakening to put keys in their ignitions to slam doors shut and drive off and when they drive off I feel more …

          Five is always purple; green smells clean and crisp like pine. Sunday tastes like pancakes, Monday like grapefruit. The letter J is the happiest woman I’ve ever seen. I am partial to words cluttered with consonants and songs in the …

Interested souls, on the verge of exposition, aped their idols, burying whatever forlorn self-understanding they might otherwise have mustered, and in diners all across the county, men and women stared glumly at the morning from behind a cup of coffee. …